A Song Too Hard To Follow
by IWannaBeAStarshipRanger
Summary: Moments in the lives of the characters in Spring Awakening. Ranging from their first meetings to when they are old and gray. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Introduction

AN: I've been wanting to do a 100-Word Prompt Challenge for a while now, and I've finally found one with words that I liked. So, in the end, this fic will have 100 chapters. The challenge works out so you write a drabble or for each of the words in the list. I decided to do mine about the kids in Spring Awakening. I'm using the words from here: .?t=14453469 .

Also, to be clear, these "moments" are not in order. I'm going to be jumping back and forth.

Let's go!

**1. Introduction**

"Wendla, stop touching the ground. It's dirty, darling,and you look so pretty in your new dress." Frau Bergmann looked down on the little girl.

For Wendla, the world was filled of pure wonder and everything was something new and beautiful. No one, not even the other children, appreciated the small things in the world as much as she. The daisy dropped from her nimble fingers and Wendla looked up at her mama.

"Mama, what am I to do while you have tea with Frau Gabor?"

"I'm sure you'll find something. The Gabors have a lovely garden, you know. And stop chewing your nails, child. It's unladylike." Her mama said while Wendla's hand was pulled from her mouth.

They walked in silence for the rest of the short trip to the Gabor's residence. It was a small, Victorian house, with blue gables on the windows and a large front porch. Around it were three large oak trees, casting cool summer shade on the road and the home. There were three floors, one of them doubling as the attic. Wendla had passed by this house many times on trips to the market with her sister, but she never knew that it belonged to the Gabors. Actually, Wendla had never even seen the Gabors. Or, at least, never been introduced to them.

Frau Gabor must have seen the pair walking up the lane, for before they arrived at the door, it flung open to reveal a pudgy, but healthily so, woman. She was younger than Wendla's mama, but not by much.

"Ada!" The woman called to Wendla's mama.

"That's Frau Gabor, baby." Frau Bergmann explained when she saw her daughter's puzzled expression. Wendla nodded quickly.

Inside the abode, it looked like every other home in the village. Fancy furniture, very clean, plenty of wood and excessive crimson. Wendla's mama let go of her child's hand and directed her to the back door.

Wendla's feet hit the floor gently as she walked past the kitchen and to the second entrance. She pushed open the door and looked around. Along with flowers, trees, a swing and a rocking horse, there was a boy climbing a tall perennial. He didn't look too far from Wendla's own age, and his curly brown hair was bouncing as he clambered up the tree. One he got onto a thick, sturdy branch, Wendla spoke.

"Hello. Are you allowed to be doing that?"

The boy's head jerked around, he was clearly surprised that there was another human in the garden. Wendla looked into his rich brown eyes.

"Oh... hello. I didn't think there was someone else here. Would you like to sit with me?" He sounded wise, even at his young age, it seemed that he knew things that other children could only imagine.

Wendla responded swiftly, "Well, I suppose if it's alright by you, I'd like to join you up in that tree." Wendla unbuckled her shoes and took off her socks, piling them neatly as she did so. She scaled the tree with little difficulty and plopped onto the branch beside the new boy.

The boy held out his hand towards Wendla, "My name is Melchior Gabor. I'm five years old."

Wendla took the awaiting hand in her own and shook it, "I'm Wendla Bergmann. I'm almost five."

Melchior nodded and looked Wendla over once more. He smiled, "You know what? We're going to be very good friends, Wendla Bergmann."

And they were.


	2. Love

AN: So here's a little Hanschen/Ernst for you. Feel free to request one with a specific character, I don't mind.

**2. Love**

"ERNST!" Thea hollered up the stairs, "YOUR DREADFUL BLOND FRIEND IS HERE!"

She wasn't one to be subtle, especially not when describing Hanschen Rilow. Even for a twelve-year-old boy, she, and the other girls, found Hanschen to be exceptionally strange. Thea could never quite place her finger on what made him so unusual, all she knew was that she didn't like it. For some strange reason, her brother and Hanschen had become friends at the beginning of the summer and since then, they were inseparable.

"Send him to my room, Thea." Came a soft voice from upstairs.

Hanschen looked into Thea's eyes with a smug expression, "And I thought your mother told you not to call me dreadful the last time I was here? Perhaps I should tell her what you said..."

Thea's eyes flared with loathing. Who did Hanschen think he was? And why was he so special that he could taunt her without any consequences? No matter, Thea thought, and she walked to the living room. Hanschen carried himself up the stairs with an air of confidence to see that Ernst's door was open.

"Hullo. Did you bring your books?" Ernst questioned the blond.

Hanschen walked briskly to the extra chair by the desk. It was across from Ernst's and sitting on a sea coloured woven carpet, "So, poems. We have to write them on things we like, am I correct?"

Ernst nodded furiously.

"Then what is your poem going to be about?"

Ernst looked deep in thought for a moment, and then spoke up, "Pastries...or you." As soon as he said this, he blushed a deep scarlet. He shouldn't have said that, how could he be so stupid? Hanschen would never talk to him again and soon everyone would know that -

Hanschen looked up onto the face of the boy across from him. He had never taken the time to appreciate how wonderful he was. In fact, Ernst was the most wonderful being on Earth. And so, for the first time, both boys realized something: they were in love. It would be a problem, yes. It was a taboo subject, and yet, neither were bothered with what they felt. After all, love is special, and it sure doesn't disappear easily.


	3. Light

**3. Light**

She lit up the room, the house, she lit up his world. Ilse meant so much to Moritz, and and if she ever left, he wouldn't know what to do. She would speak of wanting to be free, but Moritz knew that a fourteen-year-old girl could never run away from home. Could she?

"Moritz, I don't want to go back." Ilse looked straight into his eyes; hers watering and her lip trembling, "I can't. They don't even want me there."

Moritz stood up from the checkered blanket they had lain down on the overgrown grass by the riverbank. He looked down on her delicate face, noticing a small bruise that he could swear hadn't been there yesterday, "Ilse, listen to me. You can come to my house anytime you need to. I will always be here for you."

Ilse joined Moritz in standing and grasped his hands in her own. It was wonderful to have someone who loved her, who wouldn't hurt her, no matter how much she upset him. Moritz was a perfect person in Ilse's eyes, and Ilse was in his. The long-haired girl sighed, "I wish I could stay here forever. With you."

Moritz nodded, "I know."

Ilse threw herself into Moritz arms, and the amazing boy squeezed her gently. Ilse sobbed silently into his shoulder while Moritz rocked her back and forth slowly.

Ilse stopped crying and carefully moved slightly away from her friend, "Could you promise me one thing?"

Moritz bobbed his head up and down, "Of course. Anything."

"No matter how bad things get, Moritz, you never give up. Never give up on your life and never lose hope that things will get better."

But he did.


	4. Dark

**AN: Thank you all so much for the reviews! I really do appreciate them, and it inspires me to continue writing. So, you know, if you read this, I would appreciate you telling me what you think.**

**4. Dark**

Why are some people's worlds filled with darkness, while others with light?

Wendla didn't find it at all fair. Her life was going swimmingly; she had two parents who loved her, kind friends, and always seemed to have what she needed. She knew that one of closest friend's life was not at all like hers. Ilse seemed so full of joy, how could she have such a terrible existence? Wendla had attempted to convince Ilse not to go, to not leave their village. But, Ilse had left on the first day of that July, and Wendla's heart was aching. She could have stopped her, she knew it. What had she done wrong?

Two weeks ago, Ilse had told Wendla to meet her under the weeping willow by the stream. When she arrived there, Ilse was sitting on a parcel of her clothes, pocket money, and a bit of spare bread.

"My God, Ilse what are you doing?" Wendla shrieked, so loud that a bird flew from the willow.

"I'm leaving, that's what." Ilse had spoken with such determination, it was overwhelming.

Wendla shook her head, upset, "To where? You can't stay in the next village, you don't have any money and your parents will bring you back! And... and if they don't I will!"

"I am going where they would never dare go. Priapia. It's an artists' colony. I'm going to be a model."

An artists' colony? Wendla had been told of those men that called themselves painters and sculptors. Her mama said they were not true artists, and barely worked at all; all they did was party and drink alcohol. And the models... Wendla didn't want to think what that might mean.

Wendla was still very confused on one important subject, though, "But, _why _are you leaving?"

Ilse looked into Wendla bewildered eyes and back to the ground, "Do you truly want to know?"

"Of course I do, Ilse!" the shorter girl cried.

Ilse looked as if she were about to begin weeping. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted up her sleeve and Wendla rushed forward. Ilse looked away as Wendla stared, incredulous, at the welts on her dear friend's limb.

"They kicked me out, Wendla. I couldn't return even if I wished to. I promise, we will meet again. Goodbye..." And without another word, Ilse had turned away from Wendla and walked away, to her new life.

Ilse thought that was the end to the dark in her life. But she was wrong. It was only the beginning.


	5. Seeking Solace

**5. Seeking Solace**

No. No, no, no. He had not just done that. Melchior had not just beaten Wendla, the girl he was finally reconnecting with after years of separation. Who was he kidding? Of course he had beaten her. It wasn't really his fault, was it? After all, she had asked him. And she persisted; she wouldn't let him say no! He could have just walked away... but he didn't. But, of course, he had hurt her and then ran. Now he was standing on his front porch, wondering if he should enter his home. Did he even deserve to live there? His mother walked past the picture window and saw him. The door flung open almost instantly, and behind it was his mama, with a worried expression taking over her face.

"Melchior, is something the matter?"

Melchior contemplated telling her the truth, but decided quickly against it. "Oh, no, mama. I just seem to have lost my journal." At least that part was true; he must have left it by that tree.

"Well, if you need anything, dear, just ask." She shrugged and walked back to her living room, picking up her feather duster as she left.

Melchior ran to his room, shutting the door violently behind him. He fell onto his bed and lay still. What if Wendla never spoke to him again? Hell, what if she told someone? Her friends? If Wendla did intend to tell them, Thea Robel would have told the entire town by that evening. Nothing would ever be the same. Melchior was sure that he could never manage to speak to Wendla Bergmann again.

He walked to his window and observed the yard. This was where he had met Wendla. She was a little girl, then, innocent and naive, yet incredibly beautiful, even to six-year-old Melchi. She's still beautiful now, he thought, and still naive and innocent. Melchior himself hadn't changed much in those nine years. It had been nine years since Wendla had walked slowly into the backyard, scaring him in the process?

After three hours of sobbing and cursing alone, Melchior decided it would be best to at least seek some solace. Perhaps it wouldn't make him feel better, but it was truly worth a shot. He stepped timidly down the stairs into the living room. His mother was sitting on the old red sofa, knitting a pair of stockings.

"...Mama?" Melchior asked hesitantly, "Could you do something for me?"

"Well, it depends what it is, I suppose."

"Could you... could you just tell me that it's all going to be alright?"

She looked confused. "But, why? Is this about your journal?"

Melchior nodded, "Yes. It's about my journal." He hated to lie to others, especially his own mother.

"Okay, dear. It's all going to be alright."

Melchior sure hoped so.

**Reviews are appreciated and loved! Even if you don't have much to say, I'd like it if you dropped by. **


	6. Breakaway

**To be clear, everyone, "breakway" is defined by Google as "****1. A divergence or radical change from something established or long standing." I though you all needed to be clear on that.**

**6. Breakaway**

"Thea, slow down, you're making it difficult for me to carry this picnic basket!" Anna yelled to her friend, who was bouncing merrily ahead of her.

The smaller girl spun around and stared at Anna with a look of mock offense. "Marianna Wheelan, are you telling what to do?"

Both girls giggled and Anna trotted over to Thea. They were headed for a little island in the middle of the river surrounded by trees where they had picnics on Saturdays. It's been a tradition for seven years, and never once has anyone else ever been a part of one. In fact, Martha and Wendla didn't even know they had these secret picnics.

They reached the clear, blue river. There were trees surrounding it, and rarely anyone else came here. Thea kicked off her shoes and stockings and hopped on the nearest rock. Anna followed and soon they were halfway across and on the small shore of the island. Years ago, they had discovered that within what looked like a tiny, dense forest, was a clearing, not too large, but soft and flat.

As the girls squeezed through the first layer of trees, Anna thought she heard voices. Probably from the bank of the river, she thought, and kept walking behind Thea. At least, until Thea stopped dead in her tracks.

"...What are you doing here?"

Georg and Otto looked shocked. They too, clearly, hadn't imagined there were other people visiting the island.

After a great deal of looking back and forth, Georg spoke up. "We're playing ball."

"Well, we are having a picnic, and we always go here!"

Anna rushed up to Thea, "Thea, perhaps it would be best if we let them stay."

The shorter girl looked offended and stated that she refused to have them on their island. The girls argued, Otto just stood there and stood at Anna with his eyes glazed over. Georg spent about five minutes wishing it was time for his piano lesson. Finally, and with great disappointment in her voice, Thea announced that the boys could stay. They ate together, and played catch.

And that is how the unlikeliest group of friends in town was formed.


	7. Heaven

**7. Heaven**

"Ilse! Stop!"

Ilse froze and spun around. Through her tears, she saw Martha looking concerned and slightly out of breath.

"What are you doing here so late at night?" Ilse asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

Martha could see something terrible had happened to Ilse quite recently. The bohemian girl's hair was a mess, she was wearing only an oversized men's dress shirt, her lipstick smudged. Martha was curious about what was going on, but she knew that if she wanted Ilse to tell her anything at all, she couldn't ask too many questions.

"Ilse... I saw Moritz running here. I followed... do you know where he is?"

Before Ilse could point behind her and begin running again, both girls heard something. It seemed to have come from behind them, a sort of cannon fire, perhaps. Suddenly Ilse knew what that sound was.

Ilse choked down her tears and responded slowly, "...Heaven."

* * *

><p><p>

**It's short, I'm sorry. But, the next one is much longer.**


	8. Innocence

_AN: I AM SO SORRY DON'T HIT ME._

_I didn't have internet for the longest time. _

**8. Innocence**

Melchior couldn't stand it. The perfect, wonderful, pure innocence that he was apparently supposed to have. Society was forcing everyone under the age of 16 to be little children, or so Melchior said in one of his most recent journal entries.

He knew that it was impossible to stay that way. Teenagers, like him, were changing. They were becoming adults. Well, not Thea Robel, but she was always a special case.

Melchior thought that, if no one was allowed to stop being babies, they should at least know what is happening to them. He had made it his personal mission to teach each of the boys in his class about it. Hanschen didn't need any help, it was somewhat old hat to him. Ernst never really understood a word Melchior was saying. Otto followed up every teaching about a girl with some variant of "Does that apply to Marianna Wheelan?", or a creepy shudder. Georg just talked endlessly about his piano teacher, and wouldn't leave Melchior alone until he drew some diagrams.

Now he was onto Moritz, and, well, it wasn't going well.

Maybe it would be better to wait longer, and let Moritz keep his innocence a little longer.


	9. Drive

_AN: Thank you all for the amazing reviews! You're the best. Seriously. Also, I'm quite glad you all like my username. I chose it well. Anywho... ON TO THE DRABBLE!_

_(It's a longer one!)_

**Drive**

"No, no, no! Thea, we're not stopping again!"

The tiny nine-year-old turned back around and dashed to her friend, "Martha. Do you really think Anna cares if we're late? Nooooooo."

"No matter, we're said we would be there thirty minutes ago." Martha shook her head and marched forward down the side of the main street.

It was inconvenient and, frankly, annoying to have to walk all the way across town just to go to Anna's house. But, her house was the biggest in town, which Thea found unfair. Honestly, why should an only child have such a big abode when Thea had to share her average sized one with three siblings? Martha didn't really care either way, being out of her own living quarters for a while was enough for her.

After walking to the end of main street, they came across a small problem. Well, actually a huge problem. It appeared that during the storm last night, a tree had fallen onto the road. Thea stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the fallen oak with a look of such contempt in her eyes. It seemed to Martha that the shorter girl was actually trying to will the tree to move.

After five minutes of Thea frowning at a piece of wood and Martha standing around, shuffling her feet, Martha spoke, "Er, I really don't think it's working."

Thea looked at her friend and nodded, "Yes... we'll have to go around then, won't we?"

"Well, we really can't. If we go to the side of the tree, we'll end up walking into some poison ivy or something of the sort." Martha averted her eyes, hoping Thea wasn't mad.

Thea sighed and giggled. "Okay. Then we'll climb."

Martha was startled, "Thea, that's not a good idea-"

But Thea had already dug her foot into a crevice on the trunk and was hoisting herself up. Standing on the oak, she smiled and put her dirt covered hands on her hips, "Now, get up here! Anna's house is only down this road!"


	10. Breathe Again

_THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH. I love ever last one of you wonderful readers. Thank you so much for giving me such amazing feedback, it means a lot to me. _

_So, here is one that's a little different than the others. I hope you like it._

**10. Breathe Again**

Martha is on the floor. She is small, she is invisible. She isn't making any noise, she's not interfering anymore. She's just a stupid child. Unwanted and broken.

There were too many nights like this. She must have done something wrong, but what? All she knew was that she was not worth the time and effort, or so her father says.

Martha wants to be loved, no, she _needs_ it. Her father doesn't love her, nor does her mother. She hates these nights. Sometimes they're mornings, or afternoons. Her friends don't know, and it should stay that way. Friends care too much. Friend want to change what they can't.

If they did know, Martha would become Ilse. Although, maybe Ilse is happy. Maybe she has people who love her. Maybe there's nothing that hurts like this does.

She hears two people screaming down the hall. A man and a woman. The screaming morphs into muffled sobs.

Martha lets herself cry softly, gently. She touches her eye. It hurts. She can't go to school now, now she has the flu. A strange flu, that sometimes lasts a week, sometimes only a day.

She hears footsteps coming towards her and she freezes, holding her breath.

One day, she can breathe again.


	11. Memory

**Memory**

"Otto. What are you doing?"

Otto sighed, "Well, I'm trying to propose to you, but if you're that upset about it..."

Otto turned around and began to trudge slowly away, but Anna ran up to him and spun him around by his shoulder, "Wait."

Anna would have never assumed that Otto would propose marriage to her here, of all places. I was a small clearing, where they had first become friends. It wasn't a very romantic place, but it was beautiful, no doubt, and smelled softly of pine and woodchips.

Otto looked desperate, "Anna, look. We're getting almost twenty-seven, everyone else we know is married now... It's really now or never, isn't it?"

"Otto... It's just, we can't just … I mean … I would love to marry you, but ..." She really didn't know what to say.

"Just say yes."

"Yes... Oh, I love you." Anna flung herself into the brown-haired boy's large arms. Slowly moving away, she spoke, "Ah, do you remember when we ran into Thea and Georg kissing in the forest, when we were there to do the same thing?"

Otto chuckled, "And later the same day you practically stepped on Hanschen!"

Anna shrieked with laughter, "And then you fell in the stream, but you didn't even get your trousers wet!"

Otto blushed a little at this particular memory, and then added a new thought, "And remember how, when we were fourteen, I sent you letters every day? All signed "Your secret admirer"?"

Anna looked confused, "That was you? Good lord, I thought that was Ernst."


	12. Insanity

**Insanity**

Mortiz was going mad.

He knew it, he could feel it. Nothing was the same anymore. He couldn't look at a girl without blushing, hell, he couldn't look at himself without blushing .It was Melchior's essay. That caused this, no doubt. But, Melchior hadn't meant any harm, no, he hadn't really. He caused harm, yes, but he didn't mean to.

His marks were lower than before, he didn't even understand a work of Latin. He was failing, and what could he do? When his father found out... he didn't want to think of what would happen. He would yell. His mother would cry. They would ask where they went wrong, what caused him to be such an utter failure... he really was an utter failure.

That was it then. He would let them have their wish. He would be gone. And Moritz would get away from his parents... perfect. Melchior might miss him for, what? A day, perhaps three, if he's lucky. As if. Moritz is never lucky.

Yes, he would be rid of his stupid life. Rid of his schoolwork, rid of people not thinking he was good enough. No one would even miss him, really.

That's what he would do. Where did his father keep the gun? On Friday, then. After school, he'll say one last goodbye to Melchior, and be sent home. But he wouldn't go home. No, no, he would go to the forest. The part of the stream no one even goes to. With the cattails and water lilies. And everything would be perfect.

Yes, Moritz felt as if he were suffering from unending and incurable insanity.


	13. Misfortune

_AN: Hi guys, I'm so sorry I haven't updated! School is really hectic at the moment and there's some family problems going on, blah, blah, blah. I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing these, but I promise, I will end up with 100. _

**13. Misfortune**

Well this was terrible. First Anna's cat runs away, then she fractures her ring finger and has to wear a splint, Melchior is sent away for something unknown, Moritz Stiefel is dead, and now Wendla is ill! No one really knew why Melchior was shipped off, or what killed Moritz, or what Wendla is sick with. Of course, if they did, they weren't telling. Anna didn't know why her village was suddenly encountering so many problems, but she didn't like it. There were rumours that Melchior made Wendla ill; she heard the adults speaking in hushed whispers about it. But, how could he have done that? Nothing made any sense anymore, and she just wanted everything back to normal.

Anna looked up. There Thea was, sitting cross-legged on the green couch with her brother beside her. He was looking out the window, thinking about who knows what. Beside Anna herself was Otto, her hair less spectacularly styled than usual.

"Well," Thea said, with a particular air of bossiness, "We're here to discuss the horrible conspiracy about the wonderful boy named Melchior Gabor!"

Ernst frowned and commented, "Thea, keep your voice down. Mama doesn't want us talking about him."

Otto reached out a pudgy arm and tried to wrap it around Anna's shoulder, causing the brown-haired girl to swat it off. She had clearly had great practice in this. Sighing, she elaborated on what Thea was saying, "She means that it can't be Melchior's fault that Wendla's ill."

Otto narrowed his eyes, "You're saying that like you don't believe what your friend's saying."

Anna shook her head, "No, I believe her... ,"she crossed her arms, "I don't know, perhaps... perhaps everything is just scary and terrible and unfortunate now and I can't stand it!"

Ernst gave a weak smile, "Come on now, everything's going to be all right, I'm sure of it... what's a little misfortune here and there?"

Anna nodded and smiled softly.


	14. Smile

**14. Smile**

Melchior stuck his tongue out at the seven-year-old boy with unruly hair. Moritz jumped up from the blanket and called out into the forest, "Ilse! It's your turn to be the pirate captain!"

After a few moments and the sounds of rustling leaves, out emerged a curly-haired girl in a jumper. She grabbed the captain's hat off Moritz's head and placed it on her own.

"You look very professional." Wendla commented, tilting her head to the left slightly and smiling.

They all giggled and Melchior directing them to their jobs, "Okay, Wendla, you're the beautiful maiden."

Wendla frowned, "Melchi, I'm always the maiden!" she sighed, "Can't someone else have a turn?"

Melchior turned his head to stare the slightly younger boy, who shook his head vigorously, looking frazzled. "_No!_"

Melchior merely smiled and handed him an apron and bonnet. Reluctantly, he tied the apron around his waist and plopped the hat on his head.

Ilse bit her lip, "You look absolutely lovely, Moritz!"

After they were all in place, and Moritz started attempting Wendla's knitting, Ilse placed her small hands on her hips and announced, "Alright, crew, let's go save the maiden - Moritz, you're supposed to be across the stream."

He slowly dragged himself away and they continued with their game. After fighting off enemies, slaying a sea monster, and dashing bravely through a treacherous cavern, they arrived at their destination. There was Moritz, sitting on the ground, drawing the dirt with some sticks.

"Behold, we have come to rescue you, fair Moritz!" cried Ilse as she walked up to her friend. She pulled him into a tight, childish embrace and slowly let go.

Moritz smiled.

_AN: Yes, I said "smile" and it's variants a lot. I was going for something where each of the characters, in turn, smiled. Yeah. There's my... whatever it's called, I don't know._


	15. Silence

_AN: As you may noticed by now, I have a secret love affair with Otto's hair. I had to google "when was hair gel invented", "when was hairspray invented", before finally settling on "when was the curling iron invented". _

_Yes, I research. _

_(1890, by the way. So we're going to say Anna, who has already been established as rich, bought Otto one. Continuing on...)_

**15. Silence**

"Shhh!"

"Fine!"

Georg frowned and pushed Otto's head down from the window frame, almost crushing his meticulously styled hair. Sitting down on the soft grass himself, Georg gave a long look to his friend, before asking quite plainly, "... Do you curl your hair?"

The stout boy blushed and mumbled a quick answer, When Georg responded with a confused reply, he said a bit louder, "I can't just let it lie flat! It makes my head look abnormally large!"

"Shhh!"

"Sorry!"

Uncrossing his arms, he fluffed up the ringlets and shook his head slightly, making Georg snort.  
>"Why are we even here, anyway? Isn't it kind of, oh, I don't know, weird to be hiding outside your piano teacher's house?"<p>

Georg had to admit, it was weird. Being cramped between a dirty old brick wall and thorny bushes was not fun, but it had to be done. But, why? Well... Georg didn't know that. Although, the fact that this was his busty piano teacher's brick wall they were leaning against might have made a difference in the decision to come here. Otto had opposed to joining his friend in this weekly ritual, for, as he put it, "it's too far from everything" and, "he had a blister", and, "the blister is bleeding", "the doctor said that he wasn't supposed to be walking with a blood blister on the bottom of his foot".

Petty excuses.

Georg sighed... she was playing the piano... and now she was singing... and Otto was rolling his eyes...

After ten minutes of watching his friend make lovesick faces, Otto had had enough. Adjusting his hair, he announced, "I'm leaving!"

"Shhh!"

_AN: I loved writing this, so I'm considering making sort of a "Misadventures of Otto and Georg" type of fic. Would you guys read that? FEEDBACK! (Shhh!)_


	16. Questioning

**16. Questioning**

"Are you sure?"

Melchior scoffed, this was the fifth time Moritz had asked him this today, "Yes, Moritz, I am positive."

Moritz started to speed up to keep up with his friends quickening pace. With a serious look on his face, he asked, "And you know you're right about this?"

Melchior stopped walking, "Yes. Now would you talk about something else for a change?"

Moritz frowned; he as still unsure despite the constant reassurance. Was Melchi telling the truth? He had dashed quickly out of his friends house the other day, and had been avoiding his eye ever since. That essay... it would be the end of him, that's what it would be. Honestly, how could Melchior even know all that? They were the same age, for God's sake.

Moritz fiddled with the inside of his pocket and blurt out: "Fine. Moving on... I'm failing."

The taller boy stared at the messy-haired one, then, rolling his eyes, he said: "You're not. If you're really that convinced, why don't you just sneak into a teacher's office and check the records?" He added sarcastically.

Moritz nodded, and bid Melchior goodbye. What an idea he had given him... what an idea. After this, there would be no more questions over whether he passed or not. Perfect.

_AN: So, I'm currently working on a 1913!Anna fic, along with trying to get the Otto and Georg one started. So... yep. Just thought you'd like to know._


	17. Blood

_AN: Once again, sorry for the lack of updates lately. So, I heard from someone on Tumblr that their community production of Spring Awakening in which Martha was possibly the most awkward girl ever. It also made Thea, Anna and Wendla into the sort of "popular" type girls, and Martha just seemed to be there because the others didn't want her to feel left out. So it is now my headcanon that Martha is awkward and has a trucker laugh. _

_And that is the inspiration for this chapter._

**17. ****Blood**

Martha laughed louder than she should have. Anna was almost sure she heard a bird fly from a tree nearby. She noticed Thea grimacing, causing Anna to glare at the shortest girl. Martha was... awkward. Painfully awkward. She was getting better, but right now she just seemed so out of place. Sighing quietly, Wendla grabbed Martha's arm and cried, "Now, let's go by the cattails!"

Thea was the first to run off, but not before shrieking, "Oh! There's going to be boys!"

Anna shook her head, then ran off behind Thea, calling, "Wait for me – Thea!" And the little girl had dashed into the trees.

Now it was just Martha and Wendla. Martha smiled and said, "Come on, Wendla, I'll race you to the tree line!"

Martha lost.

Watching the panting Martha, Wendla noted that she should lose the next race. "Alright, now let's head over there." she said, pointing to the cattails, "You go first – Yes, go ahead."

Martha lumbered into the foliage, pushing dead branches out of the way. Wendla carried herself swiftly behind her friend, smiling a bit to herself. Martha reached a particularly difficult branch to move, but once she managed it and slipped past it, it slipped out of her hand, hitting Wendla straight on the face and knocking her backwards.

Wendla's hands flew up to her face, she was crying. "Wendla... Oh my goodness... Are you alright? Are you dying? Are you dead?"

"No, I'm not dead." Wendla replied thickly, her hand moving to the bottom of her cheek, "Am I bleeding?"

"Er, well... yes, but..." Martha grimaced, "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Still with her hand on the side of her soft face, Wendla stood up and shrugged, "It's alright. Don't worry about, Martha. Shall we just head to the cattails?"

Martha nodded and they head off together.


	18. Rainbow

**18. Rainbow**

"No, just look!"

Ernst shook his head and crossed his arms, glaring at Thea. There was nothing special in the sky, and he was not falling for it again. Thea sighed loudly and pointed behind the boy's head.

"Really! You are missing a rainbow!" She cried.

"Thea, there's not a rainbow." Ernst shook his head. Getting up, he dusted off his pants and walked towards their parents. As we strolled down the field he heard Thea holler once more,

"Are there two of them! Ernst, there's two rainbows at the same time!"

His youngest brother, Johannes, ran towards him, beaming. The little boy hugged Ernst's legs and said quietly, "You know, there are two rainbows."

Ernst pulled Johannes off his legs and said, "She's got you onto this too?"

The teenage boy spun back around, and marched towards Thea. Halfway across the field, he figured he might as well give and look up. His head reached up, staring at the clouds and blue-grey sky.

What do you know?, Ernst thought, Two rainbows.

_AN: Sorry for the lack of updates! I say that a lot. Sorry. Sorry, I'm Canadian, we apologize a lot. You probably don't care about that... sorry. Shoot._


	19. Grey

**19. Grey**

"No, no, no. It's too rainy."

"Aw, come on!"

Ilse sighed, "Fine." She did not want to celebrate her birthday today. No way. She hated birthdays; they weren't fun for her, and all she ever got was socks and pennies.

Wendla ran downstairs and across the red carpet, heading to the door. Ilse followed her, soon learning she shouldn't have done that.

"No, Ilse, you have to stay in your room while I get your gift." Wendla cried.

Ilse groaned, "Can't we do this tomorrow? It's so depressing outside. Not a day for fun."

Wendla shook her head no and grabbed her parcel from her satchel. She dashed back up the stairs, beckoning Ilse to follow.

They flopped down onto her bed, and the smaller girl shoved the gift into the other's lap.

"Happy tenth birthday, Ilse!"


	20. Fortitude

**AN: Hey guys! I'm so so so sorry for not updating lately. I have a seriously valid reason, though. You see, my AP English teacher is making us write novels for national novel writing month, It's worth seventy percent of our grade and half of it's due by the end of the month. He told us last month, so I haven't got much time left and I'm not too close to being done. I hate this teacher. I will try my hardest to get this up in a uniform and organized manner, but if there's big breaks between them, I apologize in advance. **

20. Fortitude

Oh... Ilse really should have brought a cape, or coat, or anything other than her day dress. The wind whipped around her head, her hair flying everywhere.

She was just so cold. She shivered and rubbed her goosebumped arms, breathing shallowly. She really needed to find some food, then she could keep walking. Just some food, anything. She spotted some dandelions in the grass, the leaves were better than nothing.

Ilse grabbed them out of the dirt, brushed them off and stuffed her mouth with them. She couldn't take it with her, anyways. The leaves rustled... what is that animal? It was moving more now – maybe Ilse should start running.

Yes, now would be a good time to run – why couldn't she move? Ilse just stood there; her legs frozen. No... no, she had to keep going, and just run.

Just go.

She did.

Ilse ran through trees, past rocks, jumping over creeks, until finally she reached the very edge of Priapia once more.

Leaving wasn't as easy as it was made out to be. As she walked back into town through an alley, she realized that she had no idea where she was going to go if she hadn't come back.

Oh well... she was going to get a way back to her town some day.


	21. Vacation

**AN: Lucky you, you get two drabbles tonight.**

21. Vacation

"My god, Hanschen, would you just shut up?"

"You shut up."

"Witty comeback."

Hanschen groaned; why did he have to have the most irritating younger sister in the entire world? She was nine, and he was thirteen; she was not supposed to be smarter than him. Or more appealing. But no, lovely little Frieda was everyone's favourite. Of course, Frieda thought he was everyone's favourite, but she wasn't planning on telling him that.

These vacations, or so his mother called them, were not relaxing in the slightest. A visit to a lake, everyone else does that. They had even passed Wendla's family on the way to their spot on the grass. A vacation was supposed to get you away from the stress, this just increased it.

Frieda poked Hanschen on the side and laughed like a madman, this was so much like her.

"Can you, oh I don't know, not do that?" He asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Frieda blew on his face, "I can... but I won't,_ dearest Hansy._"

"I told you not to call me that!" Hanschen hollered. At this point of others to solve their problems.

"Oh, but it's such a good nickname for you," Frieda taunted, "So sarcastic and ironic. Like anyone could call you that with a straight face."

Hanschen grabbed a watermelon slice and munched on it, sulking. Well, sulking in a very haughty way. _Great vacation so far, _he thought.


	22. Mother Nature

**AN: Guess who's back with his hair fetish? **

22. Mother Nature

"There's a twig in your hair."

"Oh my god, WHAT?"

"Th-there's just a little twig stuck in your hair."

Otto immediately stopped walking, and began jumping up and down while shaking his head, "My hair – my perfect hair... I – hate - nature!"

Anna stopped with her arms outstreched, trying in a very awkward manner to stop the short boy from panicking, "I'm sure it's okay – oh, come on, now you're running your fingers through your hair? I thought we were on a date!"

"My blemished hair takes priority!"

"No, it does not!"

"Yes, it does, Anna!"

"Listen," Anna said firmly, "We're going back to your house, curling your hair again, and then we will proceed to return to our walk in the woods."

Otto, still shaking his head, murmured, "Alright."

"Good. Now let's go heat up that curling iron before you start hyperventilating."

"You sound like Melchior."

"Then congratulate Melchior on sounding like me."


	23. Cat

**AN: Thank you all for your lovely reviews. Now I'm bored, so you get little Moritz and a kitten.**

23. Cat

A four-year-old Moritz cradled the orange kitten in his arms as he walked down the pathway to the backdoor. He had been exploring with Melchior in his backyard when he came across this stray animal. Instantly, Moritz felt an apparent deep emotional connection to the cat and decided that he must keep it safe and happy.

He pushed open the door and entered the dwelling, while calling out, "Papa! Come see what I found!"

His father took his time to arrive in the kitchen, and had a very displeased look on his face when he saw the animal. "Where did you get that?"

"The backyard, papa, I want to keep him!" Moritz exclaimed, slightly jumping up and down.

"You have to take care of him if you want to keep it, you know."

Moritz's face light up, "Oh, I will! Can I keep him? Please?"

His father sighed and replied wearily, "Fine. Keep the cat. You need to name it first, however."

Moritz took a deep breath and began rattling the names he was considering, "I can call him Fluffy, or Spot, or Ed, or Frank, or Lampshade, or Bugsy, or Roar, or Tiny, or Lion, or Tiger... I'll call him Lion."

And so, Moritz and his new kitten, Lion, led a very happy existence for the next few years.

That is, until Lion ran away.


	24. No Time

24. No time

"There isn't any time to rest!" Martha cried, "We have to find Wendla – now."

"Martha, I understand what you're getting at, but really, it's late -"

"I'm tired!"

"Thea, don't interrupt me. As I was saying, it's late, we're tired, and frankly, we don't even know where she is."

Martha was becoming frantic now. Anna and Thea just wouldn't listen to what she was saying, but she calmed herself down and repeated, "Listen to me, both of you. Wendla is in danger. I saw her mama taking her into town, and I know you both know what they do in town in the dead of night!"

Thea stepped forward, a disbelieving look on her face, "No, why would Wendla's mama be – that's silly - but – no."

Anna shook her head, Martha just stared at them.

"Now... are you going?" She asked

Anna's mouth twitched, "I-I... are you sure?"

Thea looked at Anna, then shut her eyes firmly.

Martha took a deep breath and replied, "Yes. I'm positive. And, honestly, we could end up saving her life! Now let's go, now!"

Martha ran off down the side street. Anna and Thea shared a distressed look before heading after her.


	25. Jealousy

_AN: Hi guys, I'm back! Huzzah! I got an A on my assignment, so thank you for being patient. And well, here you go, I'm getting back into the orderly posting of these. Oh, and with this one, I'm a fourth done my 100 prompts! Snazzy. It's particularly long and involves our favourite siblings, Thea and Ernst._

Jealousy

"It's so unfair!" Thea cried far too loudly for being indoors, "Ernst, isn't it unfair?"

The boy merely stared blankly at his sister, finally asking, "Am I missing something?"

The fiesty girl glared at Ernst, and responded while rolling her eyes, "Apparently so! It's just so unfair!"

She then proceeded to fall purposefully onto her brother's bed and cover her face with a pillow. Ernst remained in his chair, feeling quite confused about the whole subject. One second he was just sitting alone in his room, writing an essay, when all of a sudden his little sister bursts into the room screaming about the 'inequality of life' and how 'you'll never get what you want so why even try?'.

"Can you just tell me what you're going on about?"

From under the pillow came a muffled answer, "Fine," Thea paused a moment then began a slow explanation, "Wendla told me... th-that she talked to Melchior a little while back."

That was it? Ernst couldn't believe that, "...So what?"

"So," She replied quickly, and soon she began to sound hysteric, "So, after she talked to him, guess what she got to do? Guess! Guess!"

"I don't know, Thea!"

"Guess!"

"But-"

"Guess!"

"...Fine," Ernst sighed and said the first thing that came to mind, "Did she... get to pick berries without you?"

The small girl sat and and stared plainly at Ernst, her mouth open, "Berries? Would I be this upset over picking berries?"

Simple answer? Yes. Was he saying that? No.

So, he lied quite obviously, "Of course not, you're always so calm over these things."

"I know! Anyways, Wendla kissed Melchior!"

That was it? That wasn't nearly as fantastic as Ernst had imagined it would be, "So?"

Thea stood up, looking like she was about to explode, "So? So, Wendla kissed Melchior! I was supposed to kiss Melchior, then marry him! I claimed that! Not Wendla! Me! I was supposed to kiss Melchior then we'd get married and have children named Ada and Emil and now she's gone and ruined everything! Everything!"

Now Ernst stood up, joining her, "Alright, so, Wendla kissed Melchior. But then, Melchior also kissed Wendla, meaning Melchior loves Wendla. Not you. So get over yourself."

Thea's eyes widened, "I hate you Ernst! You and your meanness! You're the worst person I've ever met other than Wendla and Melchior! But I don't even_ like_ you like the other people I hate! You're the worst!"

And with that, Thea stormed out of his room, and into her own to tear up doodles of the phrase "Mrs. Thea Gabor."

Ernst was left in the middle of the room, left to think to himself about this new gossip. However all he could think at the moment was: _Are all sisters this unpredictable? _


End file.
